


The House on Mammoth Street

by Kopikido



Series: The House on Mammoth Street [1]
Category: Interpol
Genre: Comedy, Gen, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:19:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kopikido/pseuds/Kopikido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative Universe of what the guys on Interpol (that NYC band, yeah?) were like as ordinary people.  Written with Carlos still as part of the team with a hint of being a (somewhat loveable) asshole, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House on Mammoth Street

**Author's Note:**

> Well, let’s just say that this is some sort of writing exercise for me so forgive me for any grammatical errors or if the premise is a bit too “meh” for your liking. The premise of this Interpol-inspired fan fic is a sort of an observation of how the men’s personalities bounce with each other. And no, this IS NOT A SLASH STORY (I’ll publish one but that’s another story). Consider this as some sort of Alternative Universe Interpol fan fic. First appeared on my Tumblr blog which for some reason, I'm unable to import directly to AOO which ended up to me resorting to the good ol' copy and paste route.
> 
> Usual disclaimer: The following literary blurb is purely fictional. It just so happen that the names of the main characters have real life counterparts (very very smexy men I must say!). Any incident, character or anything that happened in the real life are purely coincidental.

Sunday. 9 o’ clock in the morning.

Daniel sipped his coffee as he laid down his plate of newly cooked scrambled eggs and green peas on the table. He took the salt shaker and sprinkled some on his food before handing it over to Carlos.

There were three of them on the dining table that cold morning. Carlos and Paul who are both sitting on the opposite side and him.

“Pass me the salt, Carlos.” said Paul who was stirring his own plate of scrambled eggs.

Carlos pretended to be deaf, quietly sprinkling some salt on his bacon.

“Carlos, pass the fucking salt.” Paul repeated through gritted teeth.

Carlos slammed the salt shaker on the table near Paul.

“There,” he said, “anything else, prince Paul?” while flashing an evil grin.

Paul’s eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, Carlos would have been dead by then.

“Guys…”Daniel broke in.

The other two stared at him and then went to eat quietly. For a moment, peace reigned.

Another guy in dark scrub suit walked into the dining room.

“Morning guys” he spoke cheerfully.

“Hey Sam,” the other three responded in individual tones. Daniel, cheerful. Carlos, indifferent. Paul, sounding like he was hungover.

Sam went straight to inspect some of the cabinets.

“You looking for something, man?” Daniel asked.

Sam opened and slammed one cabinet shut before turning to him,

“Uh, you guys seen the old canister where we used to put the salt in? I’m sure I left it here in the top corner.”

“Which one? The blue colored one?”

“Uh, yeah. My classmate asked me to keep his dog’s ashes while he’s away so I’ve put it in a blue canister.”

“Oops.” Carlos muttered as he dropped his fork and looked up at Sam with a mortified look.

Paul stopped eating and stared at his plate.

Daniel went deathly pale.

In an instant two figures are pushing each other as they raced their way to the toilet while the other was slumped on the chair and unconscious.

Sam rolled his eyes and calmly walked his way to the medicine cabinet for some ammonia to revive Daniel.

Here we go again, he sighed.

Another typical day in that house.


End file.
